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Forced To Like It

By Owepar

submitted December 6, 2004

Categories: True Stories, Bathroom Tales

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I’ll try to keep the opening down to two paragraphs, since you’re not reading this for my life’s story. However unbelievable it may seem, this story actually is true, unlike 99.9% of the stories you read about sex (even the ones that say “this is a true story”). While I’d venture to guess I’d probably had a rape fantasy before these events transpired, I never – not in my wildest dreams – thought that it would happen.

I’m 28 and gay, but I’ve always been told that I don’t look like a gay guy – I’m a jeans a t-shirt kinda guy, I’ve had a mustache since I was 15 and I generally keep my hair long (when this happened, it sort of looked like Johnny Depp’s hairstyle in “Secret Window”). I don’t frequent gay bars (I had a lover for eight years who died rather tragically on me nearly three years ago – which is a whole other story) or any place that you’d traditionally think of a guy getting raped.

Hell, aside from a few lesbians, I don’t even have any gay friends, which is perhaps why I’m writing this down – I don’t have anyone else to tell it to. My nearest and dearest friend is straight, and he’s the only one that I’ve told this to (though not in graphic detail -- not because he’s squeamish, but because he couldn’t fully appreciate it).

I sort of live in the middle of nowhere in Texas, and I’ve got to drive at least 40 miles to do anything. Aside from a 24 hour gas station, there’s nothing open past 6 in the town where I live. On this particular evening a few months ago, I’d been at the movies with the aforementioned best friend and his wife, and I guzzled three or four free refills of the bladder-buster at the snack bar. On the way home, I felt the urge to piss really badly. It soon occurred to me that I was only about two miles from a lakeside rest area. I remembered seeing the building there and just assumed it was a bathroom, so I pulled in, figuring that if it wasn’t, I’d just relieve myself behind the building or in the nearby woods. As I pulled into the small parking lot, I noticed that there was an old pickup truck sitting there, but I didn’t think much of it – there were always fisherman out late on the lake at all hours.

I walked into the bathroom, and noticed two men, though I was far more interested in draining the lizard. A grimy 20-something Mexican with a mustache was propped up against the sink, waiting for his buddy to finish pissing. I walked past him and up to the urinal divider next to a 30-ish bearded white guy clad in a plaid shirt. “We got a long-haired hippie faggot here,” said the Mexican as I was fidgeting with my fly.

Realizing that he was addressing me, I replied, “Yeah. So?”

“I bet you like to suck cock,” said the bearded man.

“Why, are you trying to solicit a blowjob?” I asked.

Silence.

I finished pissing, put my dick away, zipped my fly and started to turn around. I hadn’t realized that the Mexican had crept up behind me as I was shaking out and zipping up.

“You gonna suck my dick now?” he asked.

“Bare it and share it,” I replied sarcastically. Without hesitation, he began to unfasten his bluejeans. “I was joking.”

“He wasn’t,” the bearded man replied.

My heart was racing, as I attempted to make an escape, but I soon found myself face to face with the bearded man.

“I’m not sucking your dicks.”

The Mexican kicked me in the back of my right knee and my leg buckled, putting me at eye level with the bearded man’s crotch.

“What the fuck – you motherfucker!” I yelled.

“No,” replied the Mexican, “today I’m a faggot-fucker.”

“You can do it the easy way or the hard way,” replied the bearded man as he ripped open his jeans. “Ya can either walk outta here a little sore or be carried out on a stretcher. Which is it gonna be?” I instantly saw that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and that his dense, dark pubes segued into a thick pink shaft below – though he didn’t instantly give me a full view.

“You guys are serious?” I replied.

The Mexican grabbed the hair on the top of my head and stepped in front of me and the bearded man stepped out of his way. Swinging from his open fly was the longest, thickest, uncut dick that I’ve ever seen in real life. Probably nine or ten inches soft, it was apparent that there was an enormous mushroom-shaped head buried under the thick brown foreskin.

“You better open up,” said the bearded man.

“And if I feel your teeth,” the Mexican followed up, “you’re leaving here without ‘em!”

“Come on guys,” I protested.

The Mexican, whose fingers were already woven into my hair, pulled my face up against his soft dick. His buddy slammed his hand against the back of my head, burying my nose in his thick pubes, making me inhale the aroma of ball sweat and piss. If I had to guess, I’d think that the Mexican hadn’t bathed in at least three weeks – though in a twisted way, that stench was sort of a turn-on.

“Open wide, faggot,” said the Mexican, loosening his grip slightly.

Although I like to give head, I was sort of scared that I didn’t have a choice. I reached up with my right hand and grasped his meat by the base, unsure of whether I was even going to be able to fit this thing in my mouth without scraping my teeth along it as he slid it in. I squeezed slightly, pulling back the foreskin enough that the dark tip of the head slid out of its sheath before my mouth. I gulped hard, parted my lips to take it in and without warning, he pulled my hair and jabbed the entire length of it into my throat. My lips were smashed against my hand making me realize that if he was playing this way, I’d be best to keep my hand outta the way.

“I knew we had a good cocksucker here,” said the Mexican.

I gagged on his slowly stiffening dick as the two of them held my face firmly at the base of his cock and I wrestled to free my hand.

“Take it like a man,” said the bearded guy.

I pushed on the Mexican’s thighs, trying to back up off of the monster and take a breath of air. The Mexican slowly pulled my head back, letting me see the incredible length of the gigantic dick as it retracted out of my throat. As the swelling head passed my lips, I gasped in all the air that I could, knowing that I’d better breathe while I had the opportunity.

“Tastes pretty good, huh faggot?” asked the bearded man.

“Okay, hippie, time to get it completely hard,” said the Mexican as he rubbed his semi-erect monster across my lips.

“How big is…” I began to ask as he yanked my hair and started easing it back into my throat.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna take every inch.”

As he pulled my throat onto his cock, he thrust his hips, making sure that I took it all in until my nose was buried in his soft, smelly bush. He held me there for a moment, and then slowly slid my head back as he pulled his ass away, creating a slow, rhythmic face-fuck. He’d make me take it all the way to the base, and then he’d pull back so that the head was resting just inside my lips… then he’d repeat the whole process again. After two or three passes, his meat was as solid as a tree limb as he fucked my throat. I was never really a “size queen,” as the saying goes, but the feeling of this enormous reptile cutting off my air supply as it inched its way into my stomach had me more turned on than anything else ever has (or probably ever will).

Suddenly the bearded man began unfastening my jeans. I knew what was coming and I prayed that he only had a four incher… though my prayer wasn’t answered.

“Yeah, I knew it,” the bearded man began, “the queer’s getting off on this. Got a tent pole in here.” The Mexican quickly jerked his dick out of my mouth, finally letting me see Rodzilla in all its erect glory.

“You’re liking this, huh?” I couldn’t answer – I just panted and stared at the god-like dick that was pointing at me. “Never had fifteen and a half inches tearing into your throat, have you, fag?” I still couldn’t answer – particularly once I heard how long it actually was. I was in awe of this veiny beast. I studied it for as long as I could… from his heavy balls and thick, dark bush was this light brown, enormous shaft, thick and straight until it neared the head. Near the end, it began to slope downward, as if it had been bent from years of sliding it into guys’ throats. In its hard state, the foreskin only covered about half of the gigantic mushroom that was protruding from underneath.

“You gonna answer him, faggot?” asked the bearded guy. I was so entranced by the near foot and a half of meat that I couldn’t remember the question.

“No, I -- I’ve never -- seen a cock this big… in real life,” I replied, tripping on my words.

“You like it, don’t ‘cha?” asked the Mexican.

“Yeah.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir, I like it.”

“Good. Open up again.”

I did as I was told and he began pulling my hair again as he resumed his slow, deep face-fuck. Soon thereafter, his buddy dropped down behind me. He jerked my jeans and my underwear down around my knees, and I instinctively tightened up, making me slightly gag on the dick in my throat.

“You’d better open up and let me in,” he said.

Frankly, I never liked getting fucked, but I had a feeling if I didn’t oblige I would wind up regretting it. I relaxed my muscles as much as I possibly could, and he spread my ass open and began rubbing my hole with his thumb.

“You look good and tight.”

“As good of a cocksucker as he is, figured he’d be loose,” replied the Mexican.

“I need to loosen it up or you’ll never get yours in here.”

Now, I know there were already tears streaming down my face just from my minor gagging and lack of oxygen, but at that moment, the thought of Rodzilla going up the other end was enough to make me want to cry.

The bearded guy wet his thumb with spit and continued rubbing my hole as the Mexican eased his dick all the way in my mouth. As I inhaled hair, he jabbed his thumb into my sphincter. I emitted a deep groan, making the Mexican’s dick twitch against my tonsils. The bearded guy vigorously rotated his thumb in a circular motion for what seemed like an eon and the Mexican continued the slow fuck of my mouth.

Suddenly he pulled his thumb out and began smacking his half-hard rod against my ass as it became harder and harder. Although I couldn’t see what was happening – all I could see was a mile of shaft ending in a thicket – I knew that there was some sort of non-verbal exchange between the two of them. The Mexican pulled my face all the way down until my bottom lip was caressing the top of his massive ballsack, my top lip was nestled deep in his pubes, and his balls were pressed tightly against my chin. And that’s when the bearded man assaulted my ass.

I could feel the moist head pressed up against my wet hole. He grabbed onto my hips and thrust the entire length of his rod into my ass. I screamed – or screamed as best as I could with a full throat – and the Mexican began trembling from the pleasure of the vibration on his equipment.

The bearded guy kept a firm grasp on my hips and held his position deep inside of me as the Mexican slid his dick all the way out of my mouth, letting me breathe as I sobbed.

“You alright?” he asked, almost sympathetically.

“It hurts,” I replied, nearly unable to form words since I was concentrating so much on the pain.

“If you don’t feel pain, how d’ya know you’re alive?” asked the bearded guy.

Although there was still a dick buried in my colon, he held still and the Mexican relinquished his hold on my hair, giving me a short break… and a short time to breathe as I cried.

“Please don’t put that in my ass,” I said to the Mexican, never taking my eyes off of his ginormous hardon.

“You almost made me cum when you screamed,” he replied, “and I ain’t ready to cum yet. Open those lips again.”

I reluctantly obliged, though my reluctance had nothing to do with me not wanting to suck it. To me, sucking a guy’s dick was always more orgasmic than having an orgasm. Although my jaw was already sore and cramping, I wanted to finish him off and taste his hot load. But I knew that as soon as he began banging my tonsils, the bearded guy was gonna start thrusting. And I was correct in thinking that.

The Mexican proceeded to resume his routine, but as he slid it back in towards my stomach the third time, the bearded guy began to move. It suddenly occurred to me just how gentle the Mexican was as he stimulated my oral cavities. His buddy, however, was not gentle at all – though there was a similarity in their performances. They both thrust all the way in, nearly all the way out, and then back in again. But the bearded guy fucked me the way a rabbit fucks – quick, sharp and deep with no regard for the recipient. For the first few minutes, I screamed as well as possible with each stab into my anus, making the Mexican throb and tremble from the vibration. As I began to get used to the sensation, I tried to concentrate on the blowjob of a lifetime that I was giving. In a way, I felt privileged that I was bestowed the honor of having this godly dick in my mouth… and I certainly wasn’t going to let the bearded guy spoil that. I quickly lost all sense of time and place as I was fucked from both ends.

And then it happened. I didn’t dare touch my own dick, knowing that it would surely explode if I gave it so much as a single jerk. But I didn’t have to. Stream after stream of jism spontaneously began shooting out of it, right between the Mexican’s legs. I shuddered and felt my anus pulse, squeezing tightly around the bearded guy’s tool as he continued to fuck me. The Mexican instantly noticed and slid his dick out of my mouth, but the bearded guy either didn’t notice or didn’t care – or perhaps he was getting off on the feeling of my orgasm.

“You’re doing real good, so you can take a breather,” said the Mexican, “but we’re not done yet.” As I continued to spasm, the bearded guy never slowed down. Still in want of attention, the Mexican began caressing my face with his slimy shaft. He rubbed the head against my now-chapped lips, and then circled my face, rubbing the head along my nose and unto my eyes, until the tip was standing over my forehead and my nose was pressed between his sweaty orbs. “Lick my balls while you’re there.”

I began lapping at his scrotum the way a kitten drinks milk – softly and tenderly – and made sure that there wasn’t an infinitesimal millimeter that didn’t get attention. Once I had bathed every square inch of his balls with my spit, I began to work my tongue alongside the zipper of his jeans. I moved upwards and began cleansing his rancid hair with my tongue, while having to keep his wood at bay with my cheek. I followed the trail of hair that went up to his belly button, pushing his shirt up with my nose as I licked my way up – and then back down once I’d reached the dimple in his stomach. I looked up long enough to see that he had his eyes closed and was enjoying my brief time in control. I trailed my way back down to his balls, took a deep breath and sucked one into my mouth… then the other; until they were both being jostled around inside of my mouth (they were too big to suck them both in at once). He moaned softly as I worked his nut sack, encircling both swollen eggs with my tongue in my warm, wet mouth. His shaft thumped against my head and I soon felt his warm, sticky precum oozing into my hair. By this point, I’d become so used to the sensation of the bearded guy ripping into my behind that I barely noticed he was there until he stopped and jerked his cock out.

“Looks like he gives fuckin’ fantastic head,” he said, “and he’s ready for you on this side.”

“You want me to blow my load in your mouth?” the Mexican asked me. I nodded emphatically, thinking he meant he wasn’t gonna fuck me. “Okay, I’ll pull out before I cum, but you’d better swallow every last drop.”

The bearded guy rose to his feet and stepped in front of me, finally offering me a view of his equipment, as the Mexican prepared to mount me from behind. Now, I have to say here, I’ve got a 7+ inch pecker and up until the events you’re reading, I’d only been with one guy who was longer than me (not that I’ve been with an inordinate amount of guys, but a little more than a handful – though at this point it’d been two years since I’d even given a blowjob). The bearded guy’s dick was clipped and neither as long nor as thick as the Mexican’s – but he had 2 to 3 inches in length on me and, like mine, his was straight as an arrow. It was no wonder that it hurt so badly when he jammed it inside of me.

They repeated the same procedure as when I first was assaulted at both ends – the bearded guy grabbed my hair, bucked his hips and made me swallow the entire length of his manhood as the Mexican nailed me from behind. And the results were the same. Although my rectal cavity was loosened from the bearded guy’s vigorous fuck, it was ill prepared for something of greater length and width to be stabbed into it. I gave a muffled scream, probably of greater intensity, onto the bearded guy’s dick, making him tremble. They had choreographed it so perfectly that I instantly began to wonder how many times they had done this before.

Unlike the first time, I wasn’t given the opportunity to catch my breath – they each started fucking away at me. The bearded guy had to slow his pace somewhat or I’d have probably puked my popcorn on him, but he was still rather relentless in his thrusting. The Mexican fucked my ass the same way that he fucked my throat – slowly, gently (but forcefully) and completely. I don’t know when my dick got hard again (if it ever even got soft after my orgasm), but I soon realized that I was at full mast… and shockingly, it had little or nothing to do with what was going on in my throat. The Mexican’s slow fuck felt good no matter where he was doing it – hell, he could’a been fucking my hand, and in some weird way I’d still get pleasure from it. Despite the fact that I love having a dick in my throat, I again tuned out the bearded guy and concentrated on the pleasure that I was receiving being fucked by the Mexican.

I didn’t have long to concentrate on it though. The bearded guy, knowing exactly what he was doing, yanked my hair and pulled his dick up into my mouth. The rate of his pumping increased, but he didn’t allow the head to go into my throat. Soon thereafter, I was rewarded for my services with a mouthful of salty, sticky, warm cum as he moaned. With the last squirt, he rammed his dick deep into my throat, making me swallow most of what had already been expelled, though some did ooze out of my mouth and splatter across his pubes and open blue jeans. He held me tight against his crotch for a moment as he heaved air in post-coitus bliss, before he pulled his rod out and rubbed it all over my head, slathering my face with his semen and my own mucus.

“You almost ready to blow?” he asked the Mexican a few minutes later as he continued to rub his now-soft penis against my face.

“Yeah, almost,” he replied. “Get down, boy.”

The Mexican pushed me flat onto the cement floor so that my dick flopped up and was resting under my belly. He lowered himself upon me with his hands planted on my back, and increased his speed of thrust. Unlike before, he was barely pulling out, just fucking me hard and deep and a little more quickly. At this point I was enjoying it and thought that I may cum again from the sensation of the floor and my belly rubbing my dick as he took each deep pump.

“Get ready to swallow, hippie.”

He pulled us both back up to our knees as his rate continued to increase, and a moment later he pulled out. On his feet faster than The Flash, he was in front of me again. I barely had a chance to get the tip of his head into my mouth when it began to gush. And gush… and gush. It had mutated from merely an abnormally large penis into a hose that spewed out thick, hot sperm. I began to swallow just as soon as it began to flow, but that wasn’t enough – I didn’t know it was possible for one person to have this much cum stored inside of them. I swallowed as much as I could, though a lot of it managed to leak out and dribble down my chin, onto my shirt and my hardon that was sticking out far below.

Once the main had been shut off, he continued to fuck my face until his gorgeous cock was completely limp and spent. I sucked on it hard, knowing it was soon going to be over and wondering how this was all gonna end.

“Without a doubt, this is the best one yet,” the Mexican replied to his buddy. He pulled the soft shaft from my lips and let it dangle in front of my fixated eyes for a moment. “Next time I’m super-horny and can’t find anyone else, I’m gonna pay you a visit, hippie.”

“You gonna report this to the cops, queer?” asked the bearded man.

“No, sir,” I responded. “Never forget it though.”

“Back flat up against the stall, sitting on your ass,” the bearded man demanded.

“Why?” I asked, trying not to panic.

“Don’t ask questions.” I started to pull up my pants. “Leave ‘em the way they are.” I did as I was told, fully panicking at this point, and sat bare-assed with my back up against the wall to the toilet stall. The bearded man put his palms on my throat. “Until next time, sweet dreams.” With that, he began to push down on my throat. I grabbed at his arms, but quickly found he was too powerful to fight. Although I didn’t have much time to think about it, I remember thinking that this was it -- I was dead.

I awoke sometime later, disoriented, not initially knowing what the hell had happened. The bearded man and the Mexican were gone. Four hours had passed since my arrival in the bathroom – but for all I know, they could have fucked me for three hours and fifty-eight minutes (it seemed endless as it was happening). As I arose from the floor and struggled to pull up my jeans, it all hit me from a combo of the soreness of my throat and the throbbing of my butt.

One of my very first thoughts was that they’d left me for dead. I drove home thinking of nothing else but the events that had just transpired – I had to open my jeans in the car ‘cause my dick was staying so hard that it hurt. The first thing I did when I walked into my house was turn on the shower. I don’t generally ‘sturb’ in there, but I couldn’t contain it. And I’d never, before that night in the shower, had an orgasm that literally made my knees buckle and drop me to the ground. The two greatest orgasms I’ve ever had in the same day. But that is not all, oh no, that is not all…

The next morning on my way to work, I had to stop to get gas. While the prior evening’s events were far from the furthest thing on my mind, it wasn’t at the forefront. I went inside to pay and opened my wallet to get money to hand to the cashier (not thinking that they may have robbed me or anything). I reached into the bill flap and indeed did still have all my money – and two Polaroid’s that were bent from my wallet being snapped shut. Two cock shots – one of each of them – with me visibly passed out on the floor in the background. On the bottom of the Mexican’s pic, childishly scribbled with a sharpie, it reads, “UNTILL NEXT TIME” (and that’s the way it was spelled).

Three things are needless to say. One, the bearded man had no intention of actually killing me. Two, I’ve been freaked out for months that they may have lifted my name and address off of my license. And three, I’ve gotten more pleasure out of looking at the Mexican’s photo while jerking off than any porn movie could ever give me. I suppose there’s a fourth thing… sometimes things that sound like urban legends may be more than they seem. And I suppose that this story begs one question too: as large and talented as he is, why does the Mexican rape guys? He could most certainly do well without resorting to forcible rape (not that I’m complaining).

And no, I haven’t received a home visit from them yet, and at this point, I doubt I ever will. But if the Mexican ever comes knocking at my door, I’m surely letting him in!


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